26 Missing Moments
by premeditated
Summary: Because there was so much left unsaid. Series of vignettes, word prompts A to Z. Pairings vary. Six: F is for focus. In which he has a little trouble paying attention to the death match at hand when a certain someone is by his side. Cato/Glimmer.
1. A is for Arson

_**Twenty-six Missing Moments:**_

_**Because there was so much left unsaid.**_

**One: A is for arson. In which she finds that jealousy burns hotter than flames. One-sided Cato/Clove.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games triology; all credit goes to Suzanne Collins.**

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><p>She sat cross-legged on the ground, wrapped in the shadows of the darkest hour of the night. A small fire flickered before her, casting a faint glow on her features and framing her silhouette in drastic, flaming contrast to the black nothing that was the rest of the world. Her hand was loosely gripping the hilt of a knife, and she remained perfectly still as her strained eyes darted around in an attempt to make sense of the shapeless, obscure horizon.<p>

"Shift's over, Clove. Get some sleep."

Clove didn't even bat an eye at the sound of his voice; she'd heard him coming a mile away. "No thanks, Cato. I only need a few hours, and the moon's not even all the way up yet."

Cato, stealthy as a cat as he seemingly materialized beside her, stuck his sword—one of many weapons—into the ground and plopped down beside her, gladly letting the fire's warmth wash over him.

"You're going to need more than that for the tracking we've got planned for tomorrow," he pointed out stubbornly.

Clove stayed silent, still not budging. Besides the fact that she didn't feel the least bit tired, none of the Careers ever missed a chance to impress him, her especially. If she could do a great job hunting down tributes the next day even though she was running on empty, she'd seem like the best of the pack.

Cato seemed to give up, so they just sat quietly. She stared into the fire while he scanned the night; she ignored the sting it caused her eyes, transfixed. The dancing flames were enticing, mesmerizing… and absolutely repulsive.

She would never be able to look at a fire the same way again. Not since _her_. Not since the District 12 tribute, Katniss—one of the two "star-crossed lovers" of the 74th Hunger Games.

It disgusted her. She was just playing a sponsor angle with Lover Boy—nothing more. It was obvious that she didn't really know what it was like to be in love… or to have to march proudly into your life's aspiration, head held high even though you knew that it was futile, because you'd never be a victor if it meant that he couldn't…

"Any new deaths?"

Speak of the devil...

Clove's face remained as indifferent and sly as ever as she turned to face the boy she'd quickly grown to love. "No. That means Twelve's still out there."

"Who, Lover Boy?" Cato questioned, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "Look, we've been over this. I _know_ where I stabbed him, and he's as good as dead…"

"I meant the other one," Clove reprimanded, scowling. "The girl."

Cato cracked his knuckles, grinning wolfishly. "Ah, yes. The girl on fire… She sure is something, huh?"

It was all Clove could do to stop herself from laughing aloud. The "girl on fire?" Please. She was going to burn everyone else to ashes for her own happy ending.

And yet… isn't that exactly what she wanted, selfish as it was? She would do anything to get both Cato and herself out of the arena in one piece. If getting that meant a little arson, leaving a whirlwind of flaming destruction in her wake, she'd gladly oblige. After all… Katniss was burning a path for herself at the cost of others; why couldn't Clove set a fire, too?

But she would never even get the chance. Cato didn't love her; it was that simple. To him, she was just another tribute to be weeded out, a piece of the Games… Maybe she'd last longer than most, but he'd kill her eventually. And she wouldn't be able to do a thing about it, because winning without him was still losing.

Even if Katniss was lying, Lover Boy wasn't, and that's why it was working for her.

Why did _she_ get the love that Clove so desperately craved? Who was she to think that she could just waltz in and steal these Games away from her and Cato because of some shameless _deception?_

"_That's an easy one,"_ she thought to herself bitterly. _"She's the girl on fire."_

Then, a sly, sadistic grin spread across her face, another thought occurring to her as she finally answered Cato:

"Not for long, she isn't."

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><p><em><strong>This is my first attempt at a Hunger Games story, as well as at drabbles and word prompts. I hope you liked it! This was supposed to be set right before Cato told Clove that if he let her kill Katniss, she'd have to "put on a good show."<strong>_

_**My goal for this story is to write twenty-six chapters, each of them based off a word prompt starting with a different letter (1 being A, 2 being B, 3 being C, etc.). Each one would also be centered around a different pairing.**_

_**Please leave a review with a suggestion for the next prompt: B, and a pairing. I always try to accommodate readers if they want to hear something, so the pairing with the most votes will most likely make an appearance. The prompt I choose will be the most creative, in my opinion. :)**_

_**But honestly… it's kind of sad that I managed to squeeze so many fire references into this…**_

_**May the odds be ever in your favor,  
><strong>**~Rae**_


	2. B is for Balance

_**Twenty-six Missing Moments:**_

_**Because there was so much left unsaid.**_

**Two: B is for balance. In which he sees that you can't have light without dark. Finnick/Annie.**

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><p>"…<em>On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors…"<em>

Her anguished screams pierced the night, deafening and shattered. Because that's what she was—

Shattered.

"_No… no, I can't! I won't… not that horrible place…"_

She was once again being held captive by her memories, locked in the tortured corner of her mind where she was still fighting—

Fighting for pride, fighting for freedom, fighting for life.

"_I can't win again… I'll die there… alone…"_

Shattered…

But he was there to pick up the pieces.

"Annie… Annie, it's alright…"

She was hunched forward, hands clamped over both ears as she rocked back and forth in the glare of the television screen.

Finnick sank down beside her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as he continued to murmur encouragement in a gentle, steady voice. It was all empty promises, of course, but he'd long since given up on trying to say anything meaningful to her during times like this. It was never his words that got through to her; it was his voice, familiar and soothing. Sometimes, it seemed like the only thing that could tug her back to reality, but it was starting to look ineffective this time around.

Finnick watched her with concerned green eyes. This was the worst she'd been in a while. He always hugged her close during an episode, but she usually kicked and screamed and pushed him away like her life depended on it. She didn't recognize him. She wouldn't let him touch her. She wouldn't let him anywhere near her…

But at least she acknowledged that he was _there._

On that night, she didn't even register as much. She just curled into a ball, buried her face in her hands, and cried. She was too far gone to even realize that he was right beside her, just like always. She didn't feel his strong arms around her, didn't see his worried expression. She didn't know how scared he really was, or even hear his brave words…

His voice was so compassionate, so gentle, so tender with love… but most of all, it was patient. She was trapped within her own mind, and even if he couldn't help her find her way out, he would stay right next to her until she did so on her own. Even if she didn't know it, she needed someone to just _be there for her_. She needed someone to hold on to her even when she pushed them away, to love her even when she said she hated them.

And Finnick _was_ that person.

He would stay by her side no matter what and go to the ends of the earth to make her happy. She wasn't perfect, and it pained him to see her so tormented, but he would still do anything for her.

A Capitol woman had once come up to him at a party and said:

"_You're like the light to her dark, the couple of the century. It's so adorable how well you balance her out!"_

But she'd had it all wrong. _Everyone_ had both light and dark in them—it was impossible for one person to be all good or all bad. No matter how uneven the doses, you couldn't have one without the other. There was no hope without despair, no courage without fear. No day without night.

And once you learned to accept both the light _and_ the dark in a person…

That was when you loved them.

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><p><em><strong>I hope you enjoyed this next chapter! It's what I think happened when Finnick and Annie found out about the 75<strong>**th**** quarter quell from the mandatory televised broadcast. I apologize if it was a little too heavy and angst-y, but that's how this couple is, really.**_

_**Thank you to everyone who left suggestions last chapter. ****Rose Reegan**** had the winning prompt and pairing this time around but, minimadi12 and Robin Kennedy also had some great ideas. Kudos to them for actually reading my last author's note. :)**_

_**May the odds be ever in your favor,  
><strong>**~Rae**_


	3. C is for Careful

_**Twenty-six Missing Moments**_

_**Because there was so much left unsaid.**_

**Three: C is for careful. In which she walks a fine line between reality and fantasy (she just isn't sure which is which). Katniss/Peeta.**

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><p>Sometimes, she was thankful for the length of the Games she'd spent in that cave. For the solace. The comfort.<p>

But mostly, its memory was a waking nightmare.

Everyone thought she was hiding—the other tributes were her greatest enemies, of course. But really, she was far from concealed.

You see, as camouflaged as she was behind the wall of rocks, she was still visible to the prying eyes of all of Panem. And that was the most devastating thing of all.

They saw her.

They saw him with her.

But most importantly… _they saw love._

That word still scared her. Taunted her.

_Love._

Did she ever really love him? Or was it all just a clever sponsor ploy? She told herself that it was for survival, nothing more, that even if he _did_ have true feelings for her, she didn't have to reciprocate, because it would just hurt too many people if she did. She _couldn't_ reciprocate.

But she'd wanted to. Oh, God, she hadn't even realized how much she had wanted to hold him. To kiss him. To _love_ him.

_That's_ why that cave had been Hell.

Everything she did, everything she said… she acted like it was all bursting at the seams with love, when really, it was all fake. But the joke was on her—she was _acting,_ and yet she knew that if she didn't hold back, it would turn into something more. Something real.

She didn't trust herself enough not to actually fall in love with him.

Would she ever figure out just when he meant to her?

xXxXxXx

Even now, years later, she still isn't sure.

She sits in the field, legs tucked under her and hands trailing through the grass. She's come here every day since she got back, but this time is different. She's not alone, and her old hideaway isn't so hidden anymore.

The electric fence is gone.

It has been. For six days.

But she never once came to see.

She still doesn't know whether or not it's the gift that everyone says it is.

"At least now you won't break the law every time you go in the woods," he says teasingly, flashing her a grin that doesn't quite reach his eyes. But she's not looking at him, anyway; she's still staring at the edge of the clearing.

Still, she rolls her eyes. She has to say _something_. "I would've kept hunting anyways, illegal or not," she points out to him, a bit redundantly. She knows he's just trying to make conversation… but this is a dangerous topic. She wasn't looking at him, but now she _can't_, because she isn't sure who she'll see. The presence of another _him_ is whispered in the words that walk between them and pile into a barrier.

Their elbows are brushing.

They're miles apart.

He doesn't care. "Remind me again how I fell in love with a criminal?"

She still doesn't look at him, and this time she doesn't even say anything. How can she? Brushing him off would be unfair. Flirting would be hypocritical. She doesn't deserve his _real_ love. She's only ever given him falsities and lies. Somehow, she wants it… but it wouldn't be fair. She wouldn't let herself love him back when he first trusted her; what right did she have to come crawling back now?

That's when she feels another hand slip into hers. She tries desperately to hide her discomfort, but it's not good enough. She hears him sigh as he starts to pull his hand back and can just picture the dejected look on his face…

_It's gone._

Her grip suddenly tightens on his fingers before she can stop herself. His gaze snaps back to her, and for the first time, she turns to meet it.

His eyes ask a question.

She's afraid to answer.

He can tell, so he starts to look away… but her hand shoots out and grabs his chin, tilting his face back to her. She's tired of leading him on without being sure what was real and what was acting, and of letting him down by pulling back every time he trusts her. She's tired of wondering.

She's tired of _not knowing._

And now she has a chance to find out.

"It's fine, Katniss. I understa—"

She cuts him off by crushing her lips against his. After a moment of indecision, he lets go of her hand and gathers her in his arms, pulling her close. This is their first real kiss since their return to District 12, and it's every bit as sweet and passionate and addicting as he remembers. But for her, it's so much more.

For the first time in a long time, she feels safe. She wraps her arms around his neck as warmth spreads through her body, feeling a familiar stirring in her chest. It's just like their first kiss back in the arena… but deeper. Longer. Better.

Eventually, they pull apart, panting for air, but they don't break the embrace. She takes one look at his smiling face… and finally has her answer (even if she isn't ready to face it yet).

She says nothing…

But she does lean in for another kiss.

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><p><em><strong>This takes place after Katniss and Peeta return to District 12 at the end of Mockingjay, but before the very end of the last chapter. So, she knows her love was real, but she's not ready to tell him yet.<strong>_

_**I'm so sorry for the more-than-lengthy wait. I've been so busy, and it was just one thing after another… but anyways, I made up for it with a pretty long installment.**_

_**This prompt was from ****Lolita Emblem****. However… I am also ****in love**** with the prompts suggested by minimadi12 and an anonymous reader, so be assured that they will likely be making some kind of appearance, just with a different prompt.**_

_**May the odds be ever in your favor,  
>~Rae<strong>_


	4. D is for Dying

_**Twenty-six Missing Moments**_

_**Because there was so much left unsaid.**_

**Four: D is for dying. In which they look at each other and all they can see is the wedge that's driving them apart. [Katniss/Gale.]**

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><p>They know from the start that it's not going to be easy—they're just so similar (<em>too similar<em>)—but they're willing to give it a shot. They love each other after all, so how hard can it really be?

They never thought they would have any problems, so they aren't ready for the mess they soon find themselves in. They fight so much that he spends more nights sleeping on the couch than in the bed. It's always the little things that set them off: she didn't do the laundry, he didn't pick up more sugar, and why is the window open?

None of that is really the problem (_the real problem, anyway_).

She can't look at his face without seeing another one: an innocent little girl with soft blonde hair and blue eyes too sweet for someone who lived a life like hers. The image stings her every time she sees it, leaving a new scar that he does nothing but enflame.

He knows that when she wakes up in the morning and sees him lying next to her (_the nights she hasn't kicked him out, anyway_), she really wants to see someone else. When he catches her staring out the window, eyes distant and hazy, he knows she's think about the other _him_, and it's like she punched him.

_It's your fault!_ she wants to scream every time she looks at him. _You're the reason she's gone!_

_You won't love me no matter what I do!_ he almost yells whenever their eyes meet. _I'm just your second-best!_

But they never say any of that; neither of them have ever been any good at working through their problems. They think that maybe if they just ignore it, it'll go away and they can be happy.

But it never works out like that.

That's why they're always hurling vicious words that rip out the other's heart and tear it in two. They know they can't face their problems, so they pretend like they don't exist and lash out at each other with whips of harsh words and spill blood and tears over nothing.

They push each other away over nothing because they're too afraid to push each other away over _something._

And he's always back the next morning, sometimes with a flower or a ribbon or some sweets. He says the same thing every time: "Can't we please try again?" and she always smiles despite herself and lets him take her back into his arms, because she _does_ love him. But once they aren't tired anymore, it always wears off tense, bitter, and strained. They can hardly even look at each other, hardly say two words.

_Prim_, their minds whisper. _Peeta._

And so they go on ignoring the heavy cloud hanging over them, pretending that they're really fighting about whose turn it is to do the dishes and stubbornly thinking that they've come this far, so they'll be able to pull through anything as long as they trust each other. (_But they don't._)

What they don't realize is that something can only break so many times before it's impossible to put back together again.

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><p><em>So I'm actually not dead, and I'm <em>so_ sorry that this took so long. I just couldn't keep up with my writing once school started, but I'll make sure that doesn't happen next year. I'm definitely not abandoning this story, and I look forward to hearing some more prompts from you guys!_

_Credit for this prompt goes to minimadi12: it was an idea she had suggested earlier and a prompt that she gave for this chapter that I mixed and matched._

_May the odds be ever in your favor,  
>~Rae<em>


	5. E is for End

_**Twenty-six Missing Moments:**_

_**Because there was so much left unsaid.**_

**Five: E is for end. In which he learns that perfect fairytale endings have no place in real life. [Haymitch/Maysilee.]**

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><p>Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a princess and her prince. This is the story of how they met, and I should warn you: it is not a tale for the faint of heart.<p>

Hers was a kingdom of wealth and beauty, his of cruelty and hardships. They lived in two separate spheres, worlds that did not overlap under any circumstances: there was rich and there was poor, and that was simply the way things were. Of course, there is an exception to every rule.

Their paths only crossed for a very short while, but it seemed an eternity marked by beauty, devotion, and blood. They were chosen among forty-six others to take part in a certain adventure, you see, one that occurred every year (although theirs was larger than most). Only one, the bravest and the cleverest, would walk away. So where did that leave our two heroes?

They decided to ignore the complications looming over them just down the path and teamed up together.

They made a brilliant pair: what one lacked, the other filled in until they were flawlessly strong, intelligent, and crafty. They battled nightmarish beasts and demons of a ferocity that you couldn't even imagine. They walked practically to the end of the world… but they didn't quite make it. And why is that?

One day, they realized that only one of them would reach the finish. And so they decided it would be better to cut their losses and split up before it came down to just the two of them, neither realizing that they were both walking away from the thing that made them so great: each other.

That was when tragedy struck.

Horrible creatures swooped in and stole the life right out of her. He returned to her as quickly as he could, of course, but by then it was already too late. All he could do was be with her as she faded away. And it was only in that moment, when he knew there could no longer be a "we", that he realized just how important _together_ really was. It was just too bad that he hadn't seen it a little bit sooner.

And that, dear readers, is how this fairytale meets its tragic end.

It isn't, however, where the story ends.

That's right. Didn't anyone tell you? Their journey _together_ might be over, but now he must trudge dutifully on and write the remainder of his tale _alone_.

People don't usually remember that something comes after _THE END_, do they? Well, he does. Painfully so. And his After is full of emptiness and anger and bitterness and bottles and a stone carved with a name and covered in flowers (some blue like the sky or some red like the sun, but all sweet like her laugh and beautiful like her smile).

But mostly, the rest of his life is full of hatred.

He hates the adventure they were forced into.

He hates the monster that took her away from him.

And above all, he hates himself.

It hurts to remember how helpless he was to save her as she lay dying in his arms. He can't stand that he let her walk away from him in the first place. He's frustrated that he didn't kill that stupid monster before it did its damage. And he's especially repulsed by the fact that he tries not to think about any of it (or anything at all, really).

Someday, when his own story comes to an end, he'll realize that there were two monsters he never could face down, no matter how hard he tried: the one that killed Maysilee, and the one inside himself.

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><p><em><strong>I tried so hard to get this up. I really did. But I just got so <strong>_**stuck**_** on this chapter. I hope it doesn't reflect in the writing. I tried something a little different with this one… what do you think?**_

_**Credit for the prompt goes to the lovely Lolita Emblem. Remember to leave me suggestions if you have any!**_

_**May the odds be ever in your favor,  
>~Rae<strong>_


	6. F is for Focus

_**Twenty-six Missing Moments:**_

_**Because there was so much left unsaid.**_

**Six: F is for focus. In which he has a little trouble paying attention to the death match at hand when a certain someone is by his side. [Cato/Glimmer.]**

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><p>The first time he meets her, she's a jewel, glittering silver and showered with rubies and emeralds and topaz at the opening ceremonies.<p>

He saunters over, smirking. "For your sake, I hope you're more than just a pretty face."

She tosses her platinum hair over her shoulder and smiles sweetly. "I'm a pretty _everything._"

She knows he can't argue, so she winks and says, "Stare all you like."

And as his chariot pulls out behind hers, that's exactly what he does.

When he sees her again during training, she's lightning, as sly and precise as the retorts she throws back at him.

"Careful," he says, smirking as he holds the handle of a sword out to her. "This is sharp."

She slices off the heads of two dummies and impales another in five seconds flat with a dagger she'd been hiding in her sleeve.

"Sharper than you."

He just laughs and swings the sword in an arc, raining devastation on the remaining dummies. He leans on the blade like a walking stick, saying, "Don't assume anything in a place like this."

She raises an eyebrow, standing a little too close. "I think I've pretty much got you pegged."

"I've still got a few surprises," he insists, his hand not-quite-touching hers. He puts that hand in his pocket then and walks off, swinging his sword lazily and reveling in the feeling of her gaze tracing his every move.

Then Clove storms over to him in the lunchroom on scoring day and hisses, "Get your head in the game, Cato. _She_ is distracting you from your _life's dream._"

He tells her to mind her own business, that he's got everything perfectly under control.

But _she_ flashes him a genuine smile before she goes out for her evaluation, and when it's his turn, he finds he has trouble remembering where the swords are.

In the arena, she's a star, burning bright and beautiful and captivating. He thinks he must be dreaming, and he ignores what's bound to happen when he wakes up, because stars last forever, don't they?

They blaze through the arena, laughing and smiling and walking too close as they slowly but surely burn through tributes one after another. They even manage to corner the "Girl on Fire"—they just have to wait for her to come crashing down.

As they camp out at the base of the tree, they hold hands in the dark where the cameras can't see. Her hair is sunshine, her eyes are moonlight, and he's never been happier.

"Perfect," he whispers as he drifts off to sleep.

He wakes up when reality crashes down on him.

He sprints to the lake, and when he realizes she didn't come, too, he sprints back. He stabs the traitor (although he's not really paying attention to where) before stumbling blindly over to her mangled body. He sinks to his knees, staring, not comprehending.

Now she's a candle, burning from both ends. She's still shining (out with a blaze, just like a star), and she's still beautiful.

He rises to his feet, his face blank.

He's going to win. He will.

There's nothing left to distract him anymore, after all.

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><p><em><strong>This… I have no excuse for why it took so long. I'm sorry. By the time I got around to it, I was so happy to finally do this pairing that I wanted to make it really good. I promise I haven't forgotten you all!<strong>_

_**Thanks to Lolita Emblem for the awesome prompt. Keep them coming!**_


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